Velvet Rouge & Black Wine
by embyr81788
Summary: [AU] As a child prodigy, Remus’ early admittance to the Royal Academy of Art was expected. Sirius Black, however, was not. SBxRL
1. Chapter 1

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine**

Chapter 1: Admittance

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.

Author's Notes: Velvet Rouge is something strange, of which the plot was long in the making, but hopefully will be short in the creating. I will also take this time to confess that I am not a poet.

* * *

**As a child prodigy, Remus' early admittance to the Royal Academy of Art would set him in direct competition with the most brilliant, and creative minds of the nineteenth century, which has spawned some of the most extraordinary pieces of art to date.**

* * *

Letters are the catalyst of change.

When Remus rose from bed that morning, he found a harmless looking vanilla envelope, sealed with the Royal Crest, lying on his desk. He knew from the moment he set eyes on it, that his life was about to change irrevocably. And he hadn't even had his morning coffee yet.

Sometimes life was inexplicably cruel.

Remus Jean Lupin was what one would call a child prodigy. Demonstrating an astounding ability of artistic talent at a young age, Remus found himself forced into the societal limelight by those enraptured with the novelty of a child painter. His early work was compared to that of renowned artists such as Nicholas Poussin and Claude Lorrain and several of his earlier pieces had been bought at private auctions across Europe. And that was all before the age of nine.

His early admittance into The Royal Academy in France had been no surprise to either of his parents or contemporaries and earned him the ire of his older brother, Regulus, who saw his younger sibling as competition. A jealous brother had been the least of Remus' worries once the full weight of an academic course load was dumped upon him. Not only was he expected to master his specialized field, which was painting, but to also learn of other art forms, such as literature and sculpture. The heckling by the older students and the distance his professors accorded such a frighteningly brilliant mind, led to Remus' eventual breakdown and his parents were then obligated to temporarily pull him out of the Academy, lest their son's health was endangered.

Unfortunately for Remus, the incident had spread like wildfire, although details of the actual occurrence were glossed over or fabricated, and the Academy was forced to withdraw his application due to the parental pressures of the other students. No other institution in France would accept him either and he was later confined to the Lupin's countryside estate by his parents, who feared an additional scandal. There, for three years, he pursued his art in the privacy the wilds provided. That was, until the letter from England's Royal Academy arrived.

_Greetings Monsieur Lupin,_

_We hope this letter finds you in the best of health. News of your withdrawal from The Royal Academy of France has been recently received by our illustrious staff and we would like to extend an invitation for you to visit our campus grounds. We would not be adverse should you wish to avail yourself to our amenities. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, in particular, would like to discuss your possible future with us at England's Royal Academy and offer a token scholarship should you find yourself interested with the idea of taking residence here._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Prof. Minerva McGonagall_

Remus blinked in surprise. This was the last thing he expected to hear. It was as if news of his prior incident had not reached England, for which Remus was unsure if he was grateful for or not. This letter, with its spindly letters and faded ink held his destiny; something far away from the loneliness of the countryside. With it, he would be able to reenter society and dazzle the critics with his newly inspired works. The opportunity was too great to pass up, and so despite the anxiety Remus felt, he found himself giving orders for his things to be packed, while he quickly penned a letter to his parents, explaining the new situation. With luck, they would receive it long after he was accepted and settled in.

For three weeks, he spent on the road, traveling towards a future he couldn't possibly comprehend, all the while with a knot of uneasiness, which had found a home in the bottom of his stomach. The logical part of Remus' mind thought of tearing the letter into pieces and returning home. This trip was sheer folly, without rhyme or reason. And yet, the other part of Remus could not face the insurmountable loneliness of the villa. The quiet that was meant to relax, adversely, suffocated him; smothering Remus in a gentle stranglehold.

Therefore, he was relieved when his carriage finally caught sight of the impressive archways of England's Royal Academy of Art and his fears began to subside. Pulling up at the entrance, Remus saw a lanky young man with jet black hair waiting for him at the front door. The boy caught sight of the carriage and waved.

"You must be Remus Lupin," the young man said with a toothy smile, raking his hands through his messy mane. Remus suspected that the habit was the reason why his hair was so untidy in the first place. "Your reputation precedes you. My name is James Potter and I have the distinct honor of being your escort around campus. McGonagall has left me with strict instructions that you are to be presented to Headmaster Dumbledore at the conclusion of the tour."

"It's nice to meet you," Remus said politely, shaking James's hand. "Although I doubt it's necessary to give me the grand tour. I'll be accepting their offer either way."

James clapped his hand on Remus' shoulder as he led the fair-headed boy towards the side of the Academy. "Good to hear, although if McGonagall found out that I shirked my duties, it'll be another month of hauling plaster." At Remus' puzzled look, he elaborated. "I'm specializing in sculpture and Professor McGonagall is in charge of that particular department. She can make a mound of clay transform into anything you can imagine…" James trailed off wistfully. "And besides, I know this place better than the back of my hand. Soon, you will too. You'll need it if you're to survive."

"Are the grounds that big?"

"Sizable in it's own right," James shrugged. "Take this for example." James made a show of clearing his throat. "Now, as you can see, our extensive facilities have the capabilities of housing several hundred students with ease. If I may call your attention to the grounds, James gestured grandly towards the balcony, "They have been geometrically designed to resemble that of Villandry's Ornamental Gardens, with several terraces and a large courtyard for the students to enjoy. I must say that it is quite breathtaking during the spring."

Remus was hard put to stifle a smile. James didn't seem all that bad, and on closer inspection, he looked to be about Remus' own age, and his little speech indicated that he was not common born. Friendship was a rarity for Remus, who had never truly had playmates his own age. His long, light brown hair, coupled with his large golden eyes and soft features pegged him as a delicate individual and his illness kept him bedridden at least once a month. James, on the other hand, looked as healthy as a horse and despite his slender, wiry frame, looked as if he could take on any boy he came up against, which was sometimes needed when his practical jokes were taken badly.

"And what about the teachers?" Remus asked jokingly, playing along. "I trust that they are of the highest of caliber?"

James winked. "Ah, I assure you that we have only the best. In fact we have in our own residence an Albus Dumbledore who modern critics have called the Michelangelo of the Modern Age…"

"That he is," a stern voice cut in.

Both boys turned to find a middle-aged woman wearing her hair pulled back in a severe bun, dressed in tartan robes, looking disapprovingly at both of them.

James looked sheepish. "Oh. Hullo Professor McGonagall. I was just showing Remus, here, the grounds just like you told me to."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall said archly. "And I suppose time just got away with you and you forgot that you were leading a workshop this afternoon, a quarter after lunch?" At James' nod, she continued in a more aggrieved tone, "You do realize that it is half past."

"Cricket!" James exclaimed, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I completely forgot." He turned to Remus apologetically. "It looks like we'll have to cut this tour short, but be sure to look me up for supper. I'll introduce you to some of the other students." Remus nodded. "Right then, I'm off." James dashed away to the other side of the building and soon was completely out of sight.

Remus looked covertly at Professor McGonagall, unsure if she was truly as upset as she sounded, and found to his surprise that she was looking to the direction where James had ran off with an amused expression. Shaking her head, she turned to Remus. "The Headmaster will see you now," she said in a kinder tone. "If you'll come with me…"

Remus obediently followed McGonagall into the Academy and through the winding passageways which were adorned with several pieces of artwork by the students and other famous artists. Remus fancied that he saw one of his very own earlier works, before Professor McGonagall suddenly stopped in front of a door with a gargoyle knocker. She rapped the door quickly three times.

"Enter."

She nodded to Remus to open the door. Taking a deep breath, Remus turned the knob and pushed the door open, revealing a graying old man in periwinkle robes and half-moon spectacles sitting behind a large oak desk. "Ah, Monsieur Lupin, do come in. I have been expecting you."

Remus walked tentatively towards the unoccupied chair, taking note of the outlandish furnishings of the Headmaster's office. Oriental rugs and Turkish tapestries decorated the floor and walls, while medieval suits of armor were placed near the fireplace and other whimsical, yet strange ornaments adorned the shelves. What truly impressed Remus was the extensive amount of books that lay scattered everywhere, piled in precarious positions on tops of shelves, chairs and one even balanced on a globe! "I'm sorry if I'm late…"

Dumbledore waved Remus' apology away. "Think nothing of it. One can never be too late or too early to an appointment, simply, on time. And that, dear boy, is what you are." Remus was unsure of how to reply and simply nodded. "Now, you must be wondering why you have been invited here," Dumbledore continued, folding his hands. "The letter that Professor McGonagall sent expressed the Academy's sentiments very prettily, but I shall take this time to speak bluntly, if you will pardon an old man for doing so, and say that we need you desperately."

"Sir?" Remus asked confused. "I beg your pardon?"

"Exactly what I've said," Dumbledore said, stroking his whiskers. "You have a Gift, Monsieur Lupin, and we mean for you to share it with the world, not stay cooped up in the countryside, until your artistic ability withers away into nothingness.

"I know very well about the unfortunate event which resulted in your dismissal from the Academy in France," At Remus' stricken look, Dumbledore continued in a softer tone, "But I also know that you have a passion. A burning desire to create works that surpass those of Charles Gleyre, or Da Vinci, for that matter and I believe that we can offer you that chance here. A clean palette, if you don't mind the pun."

"But the students," Remus began slowly, "And their parents. Won't they object?"

"No one here has any knowledge of what transpired. The students and parents are more concerned with other… matters," Dumbledore said firmly. "I can offer you a single suite, if that will salve your conscience and I can have some doctors look in on you monthly if you so desire. Your decision?"

Remus felt his head spinning with the proposition that Dumbledore so unabashedly presented for his consideration. The offer was more than generous and if he hadn't been so surprised, the light haired boy would've wondered if there was some other motive twinkling behind the Headmaster's spectacles. But for now, it wasn't as if he had any better offers, and perhaps with his assimilation into English society, his parents wouldn't feel as if he was a complete and utter failure.

Licking his lips, Remus swallowed nervously.

"When should I start?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine**

Chapter 2: Acceptance

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.  
Author's Notes: If we're not careful, this will be a long and arduous process, which will end only with my death.

* * *

**How can a simple canvas capture the ethereal beauty that is you; who is so wild, with passions greater than I can comprehend?**

* * *

As Remus closed the door of the Headmaster's office, the full weight of his decision hit him like a blow to the stomach. He was now officially enrolled in the Academy, with a full scholarship, facing a rigorous course load equal or superseding that of the Academy in France, and to top it all off, his parents still had no idea of his escapade. It gave Remus a rare moment's satisfaction to imagine the look on his father's face when he received word of his son's unannounced departure. No doubt he would have an aneurism.

The next thought however, sobered him immediately. It wouldn't be long before he was withdrawn and bundled back to the summer villa, oil paints and all. Then this entire venture would've been for naught. He blinked back angry tears of frustration. No. He would never return to that prison. He would run away before that came to pass. As an artist, he only mimicked death, he did not experience it. To do so would be terribly gauche.

Hopefully, he would have secured a generous patron by then, making his emancipation from the Lupin family easier, but prospects were bleak. What English gentleman would be so unpatriotic as to house a French painter? And what would stop his father from demanding his return? To stay in England, he would need to find a powerful client; one whose rank was higher than that of Renée Lupin.

Impossible. The discovery of witches and wizards running amok in the heart of Europe would be more likely. Remus turned back to face the Headmaster's office, with his hand hovering over the knob, hesitant to meet Dumbledore's piercing gaze which would, no doubt, demand an explanation for Remus' change of heart.

"He won't bite, you know."

Remus started at the voice, and whirled to face the newcomer. He looked to be the same age as Remus, albeit slightly older, with the poise and noble bearing that marked him as an aristocrat. His sensuous lips and raven locks accentuated his flawless skin, making Remus' fingers itch for a paintbrush. As the youth began to study him, smirking at the travel-stained clothes and dirt-encrusted boots, Remus found himself turning a dull crimson.

"I've just arrived from France," Remus said abashedly, smoothing his cloak.

"Then why so eager to go back?" the boy asked, with an arch of his eyebrow. "Though I should expect no less from a Frenchman."

"You tread on dangerous ground," Remus warned, his golden eyes flashing. "Explain yourself."

"Only that all French painters are alike; with dreadful manners and misplaced arrogance," the dark haired boy said flippantly. "By coming here, you thought only to indulge yourself with rich food and wine, without ever having to touch a paint brush, becoming obese with complacency. Reputation alone will not save you, _Monsieur_, as you may now come to realize. It takes dedication, talent, and strength of will to become an artist. Paltry strokes on a canvas will earn you no accolades here."

Remus flushed angrily and felt his body shake with suppressed emotion. This wasn't good. He was getting overexcited again. Breathe slowly. That was what the doctor had said. Breathe slowly and take the medicine. Everything would be alright afterwards.

"Hypocrite," Remus said, shoving his trembling hands in his pockets. "You preach of dedication, and yet you stand in front of me, spotless, with your velvet tunic and silk embroidered _chausseurs_." He saw the boy's eyes widen with indignation and pressed on. "You know nothing of pure aestheticism, just as you know nothing about me. I suggest, in the future, that you look to yourself before casting judgment."

The dark haired boy looked surprised at Remus' snappy comeback. But both were prevented from speaking further on the subject as the door to the Headmaster's office suddenly swung open and at the threshold stood none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you two gentlemen. It's just that I heard passionate voices debating the virtues of full-bodied wine, and I felt that it was my duty to lend my vast expertise on the subject."

The other boy turned slightly pink, no doubt at the headmaster's bemused expression. "Not at all, sir."

Dumbledore turned to look at Remus. "Was there anything further that you wish to address, Monsieur Lupin?"

"No, sir," was the soft reply.

"Excellent. Then I shall see you to-night at the evening repast, where I shall be enjoying a divine _Domaine de la Romanée-Conti_. Do stop by if you'd like a taste."

"Yes, sir," Remus said. He took one last look at the other boy and began walking down the corridor to the main hall. As he turned the corner, he heard Dumbledore's voice.

"I do believe you've made a new friend, Sirius."

* * *

Surrounded by a knot of boys, all of whom were peering curiously, Remus bit back his first inclination to turn around and head back up to his room. Instead, he smiled tumultuously and steeled himself to face the onslaught of questions that inevitably accompanied introductions.

Remus had found, to his delight, that no one recognized the surname Lupin, much less Remus himself. They had no interest in his pedigree, but rather his artistic talent. He, on the other hand, was able to identify several of the students. Peter Pettigrew, although not a renowned artist, had appeared in several exhibitions, both private and international. His lack of artistic talent was left unnoticed in the shadow of his family's wealth. Sturgis Podmore was a journeyman, but he had already made a name for himself as a master jeweler by designing several ornate pieces, currently worn by ladies of the court.

The Prewett brothers, Gideon and Fabian, had artistic circles buzzing over their recent collaboration: Twilight Veratis. Critics called it "loose" and "sketchy" with its short brushwork and incomplete forms, breaking structure and traditional style. Progressives, however, applauded it's depiction of modern life, calling the spontaneity refreshing. Remus agreed with the latter, finding that Veratis held a power for him, despite the fact that it followed no conventional rules. Perhaps that was part of its allure.

He said as much to Gideon who smiled appreciatively. "Not many understand that Impressionism is about emotion, rather than perfection that comes with stoic lines. In truth, Veratis was carefully constructed beforehand, though you probably didn't see that underneath the brushwork."

"Indeed I did," Remus said blushing with pleasure. "It's one of my hobbies, you see, to deconstruct art to its primary form and chart the artist's journey to the final product. I found Veratis to have one of the most complex bases I have ever seen. Genius, really."

"Another convert, Gideon?" Remus found himself wincing at the familiar voice. "Careful, Monsieur Lupin or you might find yourself penniless on the street, peddling your broken brushstrokes."

"You mustn't pay the least bit of attention to Sirius," James said, shooting a look at his acerbic friend, who was just now settling into a seat with his usual flippancy. "He's incorrigible."

"_Moi_?" Sirius said with affected indignation. He helped himself to a slice of pheasant. "I haven't the slightest idea as to why you're making these vile accusations, James. Really, it's quite unbecoming of you to spoil my first impression to such a devastatingly attractive student."

"On the contrary," Remus said evenly. He was surprised at his outward calm. "I've had the privilege of meeting Monsieur Black earlier. We had a lovely chat about the value of velvet and wine. I should like to continue it later, if you have a spare moment."

Sirius inclined his head with a smirk at the subtle jab. "I look forward to it."

James clapped a hand over Remus' shoulder. "Now, Remus, I have a little welcoming gift for you." He reached into his trouser pocket and fished out a folded piece of parchment. "It's a map of the school. We drew it up last year. I've taken the liberty of labeling the patrolled hallways and some of the more interesting rooms." He pointed to a block in the west wing. "This is Professor Renaldo's advanced Illuminations room. He's from Italy with a penchant for singing bawdy songs when he's had too much to drink."

"Not to mention that he has an enormous stash of Dreamarie and is partial to trade some for a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey." Gideon winked.

"Right so," James chuckled. "But the most important item to note on this lovely is the One-Eyed Witch. You see, Edna is what you call a safeguard, where students can escape unobtrusively in the event of fire, flood or mayhem. She seems rather solid, but if you push her one eye, she swings open to reveal a passageway out of the school and into town."

"Sirius was the one who discovered it, a while back," Sturgis said conspiratorially. "He knows the ins and outs of this school like the back of his hand.

"As well he should," a new voice interjected. "After being abandoned here by his whore of a mother."

There was a sudden movement as Sirius, with a murderous look in his eye, made to rise from his chair, while at the same time, James seized the front of Sirius' cloak, whispering fiercely in the other boy's ear. "He's not worth it, Sirius."

The intruder, who was flanked by two burlesque cronies, smirked. His icy blue eyes swept over the group, with varying degrees of disgust, finally resting on Remus. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"Shove it, Malfoy," Gideon spat. "Remus has no interest with you."

Remus felt himself grow cold as he recalled that the Malfoys had, at one time, been intimate friends with his Grandfather. Unfortunately, Frances' death, along with accusations of the Malfoys being spies in the pay of France, ended communications between the two most powerful families of Europe. This, however, was not before Remus and Regulus was introduced to Lucius Malfoy. "N-No. I don't believe we have."

"I hear you have some skill with a brush," Malfoy pressed, undeterred. "Rare in one so young."

"Talent visits one unexpectedly, at the most unexpected times," Fabian quoted softly.

"Something you wouldn't be familiar with," Sirius snarled. He had finally been calmed sufficiently to manage a retort, but Remus couldn't help but notice that James still held a restraining hand on Sirius's arm. "Only your family's patronage keeps your paintings in circulation."

A faint blush touched Lucius' cheek as his eyes hardened perceptively. "I see we've overstayed our welcome. Adieu, _Messieurs_." He cast one more considering look towards Remus before leaving. Staring at Lucius' retreating back, Remus wondered if it was only a matter of time before his identity, as well as his secret, was revealed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine  
**Chapter 3: Evaluation

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.

Author's Notes: Chapters shouldn't take this long to write. In fact, chapters shouldn't be this long to begin with.

* * *

_**Liken me to a moth, entranced by your fire.  
**__**Burn, so that it may consume us both. **_

* * *

_Staring at Lucius' retreating back, Remus wondered if it was only a matter of time before his identity was revealed. _

Remus excused himself, rising from the table quickly, almost upsetting the gravy bowl in his haste to leave. He vaguely heard James' concerned voice, asking if he would like an escort back to his rooms, but the roaring in his ears were drowning out any coherent sound.

"No, don't be ridiculous," Remus said weakly, waving away James' offer, with a counterfeit lightness. He shot the boys a wane smile. "I just feel rather tired, suddenly. The price one pays for pressing the limits of an exhausted body,"

"Nothing a good night's rest won't cure," Gideon said abruptly, coming to Remus' rescue. He too rose from the table and shot a reassuring smile at Remus. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen, I shall see young Remus to his quarters."

Gideon took hold of Remus' arm, steering him out of the room, with his head close by Remus' ear whispering softly.

"They make a handsome couple don't they?" James said slyly, watching Sirius from the corner of his eye. Sirius, who had been following Remus with a strange look in his eye, grunted noncommittally. If there was one thing Sirius was good at, it was spotting a lie. Remus' reaction towards Malfoy hadn't been lost on Sirius, who had a sneaking suspicion that they were on more intimate terms with each other than either let on.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the windowpanes of the South Corridor as Remus and Gideon made their way purposefully to the Advanced Painting room.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've woken you up on such an ungodly hour," Gideon said cheerfully.

Remus yawned his assent.

"Professor Essex has requested an evaluation before he allows you to begin attending his classes,"

"Why?" Remus asked.

"He would never trust the approbation of another salon, especially one that is overseas. Even if he could put aside his personal feelings, it would be much too easy to forge reference letters. Essex would want to personally appraise your talent."

At Remus' stricken look, he chuckled. "I'm sure it's only a formality. You're too talented to be shunted to a beginner's class, don't you think?"

"The thought never crossed my mind," Remus said weakly.

"That's the spirit."

They rounded the corner and stopped in front of a staircase. At the top of the landing, standing imposingly, was a pair of double doors. "That's it," Gideon said, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "I would accompany you, but alas, I have duties that require tending to." Gideon, though no longer a student, was a teaching assistant. Many had already surmised that he would be taking the job as Professor upon Essex's retirement. Gideon, however, denied all allegations, citing that his aspiration was to open his own Gallery.

Remus nodded. "I'm grateful for what you have done."

They parted amicably and Remus climbed the stairs purposefully. He stopped in front of the doors, took a breath and pushed them open.

The room itself was larger than average, with a vaulted ceiling and a small fireplace. One side held desks full of mortars and pestle, along with ingredients which would eventually be crushed and made into paint. Canvases littered the other side, some with half-finished images of men and women in varying degrees of piety. There was one in the center with a woman, her face contorted with pain, as she reached up in supplication to an invisible God.

"You're not allowed in here," voice said sharply.

"I have an appointment with Professor Essex," Remus said, stepping cautiously inside the studio, looking for the voice. "My name is Remus Lupin."

"Remus?" There was a scraping sound to the left as Sirius slowly rose from his stool. Remus tried to hide his shock at Sirius' unkempt appearance. His usually long, luxurious hair stuck up on ends, emphasizing his abnormally pale face, which was smeared with charcoal. Sirius blinked owlishly, licking his dry lips. "Paix, Remus. I beg your pardon. This still-sketching is rather tedious, and I'm afraid that missing break-fast hasn't improved my temper."

"Is Professor Essex here?" Remus looked around the room hopefully as if to will the Professor into existence.

"Professor Essex has stepped out for the moment," Sirius rubbed his eyes tiredly with the back of his stained hands, creating a fresh trail of soot from his left eyelid to his cheekbone. "Grosvenor Gallery is formally announcing the date for the annual Winter Exhibition. Since Essex is part of the Council of Governors, so he's gone to ferret out the sordid details."

"Perhaps I should come back later then," Remus said quickly, averting his eyes. He made a move to turn around and leave.

"Don't," Sirius said suddenly. "Essex may surprise us both and make an early appearance. Besides, I could use the interruption."

Remus hesitated, fiddling absently with his leather cache, before finally nodding his consent. "Just don't expect me to entertain you," he warned.

"Fair enough." Sirius' eyes followed him as Remus carefully selected a chaise that was close to Sirius, but not close enough to invite friendly conversation. He made a show of looking in the opposite direction, seemingly absorbed in the painting in front of him. Sirius cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize for my earlier behavior." Remus made no sign of having heard him. Sirius pressed on. "I have been accused of being temperamental, brash, prideful-"

"And this is supposed to entice me to forgive you?"

"Well, yes," Sirius said, slightly surprised. "Isn't that what one does, when one is presented with an apology? Not to mention that I've completely humbled myself to you. Forgiveness would be an obligation at this point."

"Am I to understand that you are _forcing_ your apology on me?"

"It does seem that way," Sirius nodded agreeably.

"You, _sir_, are impertinent," Remus said stiffly.

"A failing I shall endeavor to remedy _after_ you have accepted my apology."

Remus stared at the boy in front of him, unsure whether to laugh or make an angry retort. The former won out. "Very well, then," Remus said. "I accept."

"Excellent," Sirius clapped his hands. He rose and began pacing the length of room. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Now it's my turn." Sirius cleared his throat officiously. "I, Sirius Black, do hereby forgive you, Remus Lupin, of your callous remarks in the hopes that we can become the fastest of friends."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, that's alright," Sirius said gallantly. "I already have."

Remus again was caught off-guard, opening his mouth indignantly. "Why you-"

"Is this yours?" Sirius interrupted, plucking Remus' cache from between his hands. Sirius shook it from side to side, holding his ear next to it.

"Yes, it's my portfolio, but-"

Without asking for a by-your-leave, Sirius quickly undid the clasp and drew out the parchments from inside. He studied them silently, rifling through the various sketches before reaching Remus' Adonis in Repose. Remus bit back his first inclination to snatch the painting out of Sirius' hands.

Adonis had been scheduled to be shown at the Plein Air Exhibition, the spring of Remus' final year at the Académie. The directors, however, had felt that showcasing it would've been inappropriate at the time and so it had been stowed away and forgotten. Of all his previous works, nothing affected Remus more than Adonis. Had he gotten his way, the painting would've remained forgotten, buried in the depths of his heart, but then the letter from the Academy arrived and proof of his artistic prowess would be needed and so Adonis was packed, along with other smaller pieces to be picked apart by a judicious eye.

"You disappoint me, Remus," Sirius said finally. "These are not at all what I expected."

The admonishment came to Remus like a slap in the face. It took a moment for him to school his face into indifference. "And what, pray tell, is it that you find so repugnant?"

"There is no passion here," Sirius said after a moment. "Here, you have captured the image of Adonis perfectly and yet, nothing about him intrigues me. The eyes do not hold me spellbound, nor does the blush of his cheek entice me. It is a facsimile of a person." He could see Remus' face grow redder with each word and he feared that he had gone too far-- been too presumptuous in his critique. Sirius prepared himself for a verbal lashing.

"You're right," Remus said after a moment. He looked thoughtful rather than upset; his brow furrowing as he studied the sketch. Sirius expelled a breath of relief. "'Too contrived', my mentor said." Remus gave a small, wry smile. "I don't suppose my hiatus has sharpened my skills. Gods, what will Professor Essex think of me now?"

"Don't be so sure," Sirius said, looking at Remus thoughtfully. "Essex isn't known for his keen perception. He'll be happy enough that you can draw a circle, let alone paint like this. However," Sirius looked at Remus significantly. "The Council won't allow pieces of such low caliber be approved for Exhibition, and I don't believe that you came to the Academy to sit around twiddling your thumbs."

Remus shook his head. "I plan to go back to France and qualify for the Grande Prix."

"Then come with me," Sirius smiled, gesturing to his workspace. Remus hesitated before following, stuffing his sheaves of parchment back into the cache and picking his way among the discarded easels and stools. There, Sirius cleared away his paints and handed Remus a stick of charcoal. "We shall begin with the basics."

Remus looked at him with a puzzled expression as he sat down on the stool proffered. "But the entire purpose of my appointment with Professor Essex was to prove that I had mastered the basics. Relearning them would be counter-intuitive."

"Trust me," Sirius said, flashing a smile. "Now hold the charcoal in-between your fingers. Not too tightly." He repositioned Remus' fingers. "Yes that's right. Do you feel the difference? Now try a rough sketch of your Adonis."

Remus frowned slightly as he carefully outlined the contours of Adonis in repose. Sirius continued to make comments while Remus began to fill in. "Don't worry so much about having the lines come out exact, just rub it out. Think of what you want his eyes to express before you draw them in. Is it love? Disdain? You only have the space of his iris to convey it. Yes, now darken that part. Do you see how that changes the entire ambiance?" By that time, Sirius had come quite close, almost whispering into Remus' ear as he held a hand on the small of Remus' back. His hot breath and raspy voice made Remus flustered and he found it harder to concentrate on the sketch in front of him. "No, no, absolutely not." Sirius said exasperatedly, when Remus' hand slipped. "It's like this." He made a sudden move to grasp Remus' hand to guide it with his own.

Remus flinched visibly, dropping the bit of charcoal. "Don't," he cried.

"What's the matter?" Sirius asked, bewildered. He looked at Remus with an intense concern that Remus was unable to meet. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Remus said slightly breathless. He fumbled to retrieve the stick of charcoal that had fallen on the floor. "You just caught me off-guard."

Sirius looked at him skeptically, noting the trembling fingers. "I think that will be enough for today," Sirius said quietly. "I'm beginning to feel rather faint- no doubt from lack of a nutritious lunch. I suspect that you feel the same. "

Remus nodded, but made no move to leave. "I should stay. Professor Essex may come back any moment and I'd like to get this evaluation over and done with." He felt his stomach growl in protest.

"Suit yourself," Sirius shrugged. "Would you like me to bring you back something?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Remus said hesitantly.

"Not at all," Sirius said grinning as he made his way to the door. "I'll be back quicker than you can you can say Bob's your uncle."

As the door closed, Remus felt himself alone again with the sketch of Adonis. The eyes were no longer blank and the expression was fierce. Remus felt that despite the fact that it wasn't as finished as his previous work, the entire piece was stronger as a whole. He shivered as he remembered Sirius whispering instructions into his ear, directing his every stroke. Remus had never had a teacher quite like him. His past Professors had dismissed him as a genius and allowed him free license on most of his works. Not one of them had drilled him in the basics of shading and contour, thinking that he was past such menial tasks.

This led to gaps within his education that handicapped Remus, though no one had called him out. Critics could never place what was amiss within his works, and so felt too uncomfortable to voice their opinions. Only his mentor, Rubén, had been sharp enough to catch the discrepancy. Unfortunately, Remus' apprenticeship had not lasted long before his parents had him pulled out of the Académie.

Remus sighed and tapped the table pensively, letting his eyes wander around the room before resting on Sirius' unfinished canvas. It was half covered by a sheet, but Remus could still make out the outline of a rather muscular leg. Curiosity got the best of him as he lifted the sheet and peered underneath. But before he could see more than a flash of chest, Remus heard the door swing open.

In waddled Professor Essex, laden with thick, leather bound books, embossed with fine golden script. He was sweating profusely and looked displeased at having to engage in such a strenuous activity. Huffing and puffing, he dropped the books carelessly on his desk and sat down heavily fanning himself.

"Professor Essex?" Remus said, stepping forward.

Cool blue eyes scanned the room before resting on Remus, widening slightly in surprise. It did not, however, last long. "I take it that you're Dumbledore's newest experiment?" Essex said, leaning back in his seat. He regarded Remus with half-lidded eyes. "A bit young, aren't you?"

"One is never too young to learn," Remus said as respectfully as possible. "I can only hope that with your guidance, I shall be a credit to the Academy."

"That remains to be seen," Essex said. He held out a sweaty palm. "If I may?"

He made a show of sifting through Remus' papers, his face rapt with concentration as he examined each minute detail. Essex could hardly contain his glee with each passing sketch and when he finally arrived at Adonis in Repose, he was practically salivating. "I would like to express my pleasure on your successful evaluation, Master Lupin," Professor Essex said smiling. Remus noticed that it did not reach his eyes, which were cool and calculating.

"Thank you, sir."

"I have no doubts as to your future with the Academy, given your immense talent. My esteemed colleagues were not mistaken when they cited you as one to watch out for," Essex looked at Remus slyly. "Now as you may have heard, the deadline for the Winter Exhibition is quickly approaching. The other students have been working diligently for months in anticipation of the December deadline."

"Yes, I am aware of that."

"If you had been any other student, I would believe it to be unrealistic for you to have a showpiece ready in such a short period of time. But, you are not any other student, are you?" Essex pointed a pudgy finger in Remus' direction, "You, dear boy, have completed an evaluation that would have taken weeks, possibly even months, for an average student to complete, within six hours. Considering your proficiency, I expect to be pleasantly surprised come December." Essex's eyes turned hard. "Otherwise, I shall find it difficult to restrain my initial reservations about admitting you into an advanced class, of which the ultimate goal is to present a showpiece."

"I understand your concern, Professor," Remus said, bowing slightly. "And I hope to live up to your expectations." He made a final bow and walked hurriedly out of the room. Remus could feel Essex's eyes, watching him with those calculating eyes. It was a relief to step into the hallway, where he saw Sirius and Gideon turning the corner.

"And so the mighty Hercules returns from his arduous task unscathed," Gideon smiled as he came closer. "I trust the evaluation went well?"

"_Bien sûr_"," Remus said, returning the smile wanly. "But I feel as if I've made it by the skin of my teeth! I don't think I've ever quite appreciated my paint brush this much."

"What did I tell you?" Sirius said with a wink and a nudge. He handed Remus a wrapped package, which Remus was happy to note contained several slices of bread and cheese. "This calls for a celebration."


	4. Chapter 4

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine**

Chapter 4: Appraisal

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.

Author's Notes: Why, oh why, did this take so long to write? Errors in French should be brought to my attention ASAP!

FYI: Gideon, Fabian and Sturgis are not Mary-Sues. I just like to pull up obscure characters from the book and infuse them with a little bit of personality.

* * *

_Voler un baiser des lèvres vierges--_ _L'innocence goûte plus doux._

* * *

"When you said you wanted to take me out to celebrate, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Remus complained. He blew on his hands and rubbed them together, in a futile effort to keep frostbite at bay, before shoving them deep into his pockets.

The pair had been walking through the streets of London for what seemed like hours in the bitter cold. Sirius had assured him that their destination was nearby, but Remus had lost faith three blocks ago—coincidentally, around the time he lost feeling in his feet. He was fully convinced that they were wandering in circles, in the dark, and that Sirius was too damned stubborn to admit defeat.

"Why Remus," Sirius said, clutching his chest dramatically. "I'm hurt. One would get the feeling that you don't appreciate the effort that was put in on your behalf."

"Save your crocodile tears for someone who isn't about to turn into an ice block," Remus retorted.

Remus heard Sirius chuckle and felt an arm snake around his waist. Startled, he instinctively pushed away and found, to his horror, that Sirius' arm only held him tighter. "W-What do you think you're doing?" Remus demanded, squirming inside Sirius' embrace. His eyes darted around nervously, looking for anyone who might be watching them.

"I'm keeping you warm," Sirius said innocently. "I wouldn't want you to catch a cold."

Remus blushed, and was glad that his cheeks were already pink from the cold, so that Sirius wouldn't see his agitation. "That's hardly the issue," Remus said firmly, detracting himself from Sirius' hold. Was it his imagination or did Sirius' arm fall away reluctantly? "People might get the wrong idea, seeing us walking together so intimately."

"Or the right one," Sirius muttered cryptically.

Before Remus could ask him to elaborate, Sirius held out a restraining arm abruptly, stopping in front of nondescript building. "We're here."

"Where exactly is here?" Remus eyed the building suspiciously. Vines crept up the sides of the stout brick building, framing the windows charmingly. Despite this, Remus could see nothing special about such a building—historic or otherwise. The only identifying mark was a bronze plaque on the door which advertised: 12 Grimmauld Place. What in the world were they doing here?

"It's a surprise," Sirius said with a wink. He tugged on Remus' arm. "Come on."

Remus sighed. He knew enough about Sirius to know that once his mind was made up, there was no talking him out of it. Instead, he allowed himself to be dragged to the door, where Sirius used his cane to rap on the oak panels.

The door creaked open, revealing a wizened doorman. He eyed Sirius up and down sniffing disdainfully, before grudgingly greeting the pair. "May I help you… _gentlemen_?"

Behind him, Remus could hear that some sort of party was in progress. He had a fleeting thought that Sirius and Gideon had arranged some sort of _fête_ in his honor, but dismissed it as whimsical fancy on his part. After all, it was only yesterday that he had passed his evaluation.

"Let us by," Sirius said peremptorily. "We're expected,"

The doorman made no move to step aside. "I was not informed of such a visit," Kreacher said with a voice two tones away from outright rudeness. Remus was surprised his audacity. Had Kreacher been part of the Lupin household, his father would never have tolerated such insubordination. This was merely further proof that the French were more refined.

"With the preparations, I'm sure it slipped his mind," Sirius said gritting his teeth. "Now, I shall ask you one more time to step aside!"

Kreacher shot one final contemptuous look at Sirius before slowly opening the door. "As young master wishes," he said with an ironic bow.

Sirius motioned Remus to walk inside and they stepped into the blessed warmth of the house.

"Disagreeable fellow, isn't he?" Remus said as they walked towards the source of revelry.

"Uncle Alphard humors him," Sirius shrugged. "Granted, Kreacher has served faithfully as the family retainer for ages. He's practically an heirloom--one that I would not be anxious to get rid of."

No more was said about the doorman as Remus and Sirius stepped into the bustling foyer.

Remus' first reaction was that of shocked disbelief. Gone were the clean lines and conservative subjects of Academic art and in its place were shocking images of pedestrians, laundry women, and bedraggled factory workers; all with faces resigned to a life of toil. Even the sky had not escaped artistic license, battling the after-effects of painfully bright oranges and yellows.

Here, was art in its most raw and purest form, unaltered by artistic censure. Remus wondered why anyone would want to inflict this upon themselves, for there were more people that he had originally thought. The room was packed with gentlemen, young and old, wandering listlessly around the room, imparting their opinion on the pieces to anyone who was unfortunate enough to be nearby.

"Remus! Sirius!" Gideon smiled broadly as he approached them. "I was beginning to think you both had come to an unfortunate end in some back alley."

"And risk missing your premier?" Sirius quipped, gesturing for a passing servant to take his coat. "Not a chance."

Remus couldn't help but notice that he had freshened up from the last time they had met. Gone were the paint speckled smock and loose trousers. In its place was a neat, double breasted suit, complete with a spray of flowers for his uppermost buttonhole. Next to him, Remus felt underdressed in his navy vest and trousers.

"Hardly mine alone," Gideon said self-depreciatingly. "Fabian's fielding offers for his latest piece in the drawing room. Not to mention, James has been accosted by several gentlemen wondering if he would be interested in constructing a fashionable bust in their likeness—at a reduced price, of course."

"I wasn't aware of an Exhibition scheduled this late in the fall," Remus said. He could've sworn that there were only three major showings in London every year and all of them were on the other side of town!

"The Discard is an unofficial venue which displays artwork that hasn't been approved to be shown in official Exhibitions," Sirius explained. "This way, struggling artists are still able to make a few pounds and the _nouveau riche_ get to buy a masterpiece for a fraction of it's worth. A delightful compromise, I can assure you."

"It's held in a different place every year depending on the sponsor. This year just happened to be Alphard's turn."

"And it is a duty that take quite seriously," a deep voice interrupted. Remus turned to see that an older gentleman had joined their conversation. Straight away, Remus could see that this was not a man to be trifled with. Despite the cane, he had a commanding presence that demanded deference. His coal black hair was touched with silver at the sides, which only added to his distinguished air. Judging by his finely tapered nose and generous mouth, this could only be the infamous Uncle Alphard. "Like I always say," Alphard said with a faint smile. "Those who can--paint. Those who can't--pay through the nose."

He shot Remus a curious look before his eyes alighted on Sirius. "I'm glad to see that you changed your mind and decided to attend after all. No doubt I have Gideon to thank."

"On the contrary," Sirius said. "My presence can be blamed on Remus. When I had heard the poor lad hadn't had the privilege of attending such an extravagant soiree, I felt that his condition had to be remedied."

"Ever the thoughtful one," Gideon conceded.

"And how is it that you know Sirius?" Alphard asked, turning his penetrating gaze at Remus. "I would have thought that with your apparent age difference that there would be little you two have in common."

It was an entirely innocuous statement, but the careful way it was phrased aroused Remus' suspicions. He was being tested, but for what, he could not say. Perhaps Sirius' uncle meant to assess Remus' sincerity. Remus himself had suffered his share of 'friends' and 'admirers' who were obviously only out to relieve him of his wealth. Alphard's concern was valid.

"Your assumption is not far from the truth, _Monsieur_ Black. Anyone who witnessed our first meeting could attest to that," Remus hesitated, choosing his words with utmost care. "But I believe that art recognizes neither gender nor race, much less age. Its language transcends all barriers."

This startled a bark of laughter from the dignified patron. "Well said, Master Remus," Alphard said rapping his cane for emphasis. Sirius and Gideon were grinning outright, which made Remus sigh in relief. He had passed. After that, Alphard exchanged only a few more pleasantries, encouraging Remus to take in all that there was to offer, before pulling Sirius away to speak to him privately.

"He was in the army, you know," Gideon said suddenly they watched Sirius tried to help his limping uncle, only to be waved away impatiently. "Lieutenant Alphard Black. Rumor has it that he took a bullet for the Major during a skirmish in South Africa and was awarded a medal of honor. A poor trade, I think, considering he's half paralyzed because of it."

Remus looked thoughtful. "What does he do now?"

"He's invested most of his fortune in a shipping line that runs from London to Calcutta," Gideon replied. "Even now, he has plans to extend business to Hong Kong. Old army contacts come in useful when one engages in international trade. Mind you, his business is strictly above-board."

"That explains all of this," Remus said gesturing to the elaborate oriental rugs and hand painted silk screens depicting scenes of Chinese countryside. They were sheer, with an illusion of transparency. The delicate silk embroidery around the frame, alone, must have cost a small fortune.

"Paltry trinkets, considering he's probably got more stashed somewhere else," Gideon said dismissively. "He's quite the art connoisseur. I'd wager that every piece of art that's displayed in the London Museum has passed through his ownership at one point or another. He alone owns one-fourth of the Tanagra statues which were excavated from Greece. An amazing feat considering that Alphard also spends thousands of pounds each year simply buying the works of minor artists so that they can get their start in the art world."

"Speaking of minor artists," Remus said mischievously. "I still haven't seen your showpiece."

"Is that so?" Gideon raised an eyebrow. "We'll have to fix that, won't we?"

* * *

_X.x Un beauté sans pareille x.X_

* * *

"I wasn't aware that you were bringing a friend," Alphard said lightly, when they were out of ear-shot. The look that passed between them was the only thing that indicated the exchange was less than innocent. "Had I known the two of you were coming together, I would've arranged for someone to fetch you."

"Such a stern face, Uncle," Sirius smiled. "Remus is merely a colleague of mine. He's recently transferred from France and Dumbledore asked me to look out for him; steer him away from bad influences and the like."

Alphard scowled. "Bad influences. Pah! I can't imagine what that man was thinking. He must be growing senile in his old age. It was bound to happen sooner or later. I see now that I shall have to have a few choice words with him."

"There's no need to revisit the Douglas affair," Sirius sighed. "I've learned my lesson."

"Then I won't have to remind you that I can ill afford another scandal—especially one so close to the maiden launch."

Sirius knew how important his uncle's shipping industry was, and how business directly correlated with reputation. His last escapade had cost the Black family dearly. Luckily, the charges of sodomy and gross indecency were dropped with the sailor's sudden disappearance. Funny how such a minor indiscretion drove away even the most hardened of business partners. It had taken his uncle years to recoup the losses.

"I can assure you that such… _unsavory_ behavior will not be repeated. Remus isn't one for such games," Sirius said. He glanced over to where Gideon and Remus were standing, laughing over some comment or another. Remus' cheeks were pink, which no doubt had something to do with the wineglass in his hand. A flash annoyance appeared in Sirius' eyes before he resolutely looked away from the pair. "Besides, he has proven to be in possession of enough sense for the both of us."

"It isn't him I'm worried about," Alphard said significantly.

He knew Sirius better than anyone and could recognize the subtle signs he was emitting, which all pointed to his infatuation with the French boy. He also knew that while Sirius may have yet to make a move, it would not be long before someone forced his hand. No Black could sit idly by with such a tempting specimen in plain sight and not covet it. Furthermore, despite Sirius' assurances that Remus was more than capable of resisting his advances, he had no doubt that the boy would cave, for if Sirius had inherited anything from the Black bloodline, it was persistence—in spades.

Alphard sighed, rubbing his temples. He was growing too old for this. "I suppose I have no other choice than to accept your promise at face value. But be assured that I shall hold you to your word and should the slightest rumor of an affair reach my ears…"

"I shall sign over my fortune to you and throw myself into the Channel," Sirius finished. "That, or I shall marry Bellatrix and produce a number suitable heirs, although I'm not sure which one is the lesser of two evils."

Alphard's hand made a move to swat Sirius' ear, as he had always done before when Sirius was younger and made some impudent comment, but stopped midway as he realized the public setting they found themselves in. "You're a good boy, Sirius. I strongly urge you to reconsider your options. Narcissa isn't such a terrible match and I'd hate to see the Black line end with you."

* * *

_X.x Un garçon sans l'honte_ _est sans la fierté x.X_

* * *

The remainder of the party went off smashingly. Remus couldn't remember a time when he had enjoyed himself so immensely and in a room full of critics no less. James had finally managed to extract himself from a particularly stubborn client who was determined to have a statue of him as Zeus, towering mightily on Mount Olympus. Remus had laughed hysterically when James recounted his explanation as to why that endeavor would not be feasible with the subject in question standing a whopping five feet three inches.

In fact, as the night wore on, Remus' only concern was for Sirius, who had returned from his private conversation with his uncle more subdued that usual. He refused to answer both James and Gideon's questions and stood silent as the rest laughed merrily and drank shots of Du Kang.

"Sirius, whatever is the matter with you," Remus asked, when they were in the carriage. Alphard had insisted on proving suitable transportation to take them back to school safely and would not hear a word otherwise. Gideon and James had arrived together, and so left the same way. "You've been acting pensive all night."

Sirius was silent as he regarded Remus with hooded eyes. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, a strange expression in his eyes, but with the shadows, Remus couldn't be entirely sure. "How would you feel if I told you that my uncle disapproved of our friendship?"

Remus took a moment to ponder, slightly nervous at Sirius' queer behavior. There was no trace of good humor in his face as he stared at Remus intensely. "I-I'm not sure I would disagree," Remus finally replied. Unable to meet Sirius' eyes, he looked out of the window, staring up at the full moon, which hung low from the sky. He missed the look of surprise that flashed across Sirius' face.

"Why?"

"Had it been me introducing you to my parents, I'm not entirely sure that they would've welcomed you either," Remus said slowly. "There's always a certain element of distrust with strangers, especially old, wealthy families who are wary of anything that hasn't been known by their grandparents' grandparents." Remus reached over and touched Sirius' hand which had been resting on his knee. Looking him straight in the eye, he continued, "But it doesn't matter what they think. What matters is whether you believe I'm trustworthy, and not just out to pick your pockets clean."

Sirius had been regarding him with growing amusement as he spoke and when Remus stopped, he started laughing. Remus, who had been sincere in his speech, was mildly offended. This was not the reaction he had been expecting and he withdrew his hand with a huff. Honestly, Sirius could be the rudest person on the face of the earth.

Gasping for breath, Sirius covered his eyes. "Remus, you're a riot," he chuckled. Seeing that Remus was annoyed, he stopped immediately. "I apologize for my earlier remark. I should never have broached such a topic. I'm not entirely sure what came over me. Do you think you could find it in your generous heart to forgive me?"

Slightly mollified, Remus replied, "Of course. We'll just blame it on the moon."


	5. Chapter 5

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine**

Chapter 5: Ailment

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.  
Author's Notes: It really has been too long, but I felt compelled to write it. I hope I haven't lost the knack.

* * *

_**Two hearts beat as one, but can you feel it, when my heart cries out your name?**_

* * *

Sitting in Professor Essex's class and listening to the stodgy man drone on and on about the composition of shadow against light, Remus let out a soft groan and tried to unobtrusively adjust his position so that his head could rest on the easel comfortably. The pounding in his head still hadn't gone away, no doubt due to the excessive amount of alcohol he imbibed last night.

To top it off, the light haired boy had been feeling slightly feverish ever since he woke up and a painful cough had developed sometime in between breakfast and his first lesson. Remus had toyed with the idea of going to the Infirmary during his break, but before he could, he had been pulled away by a desperate-looking Peter Pettigrew, who had begged him to look over a few sketches. Apparently when Essex had told him that the Winter Exhibition was an important showcase, he hadn't been joking. Most of the advanced students all looked harangued, with dark rings around their eyes from staying up all hours of the night to complete their piece.

Seeing evidence of such dedication made Remus slightly uneasy, as he had yet to even _think _about what he would present to Essex for approval, much less began drawing it out. From their last conversation, the advanced painting professor was expecting a masterpiece from the art prodigy and he had let it be known that under no uncertain terms that if Remus didn't measure up, his place in the Academy would be put into question. The thought alone was enough to send the light haired boy into a coughing fit.

"Master Lupin," Essex barked, rapping his pointer on his easel, "Please be kind enough to keep it down to a dull roar."

Remus blushed as a few chuckles were directed his way. "My apologies, Professor."

"Professor," the lazy drawl of Lucius Malfoy interjected. "I believe I speak for the class when I say that Lupin's condition is preventing him from performing up to par, not to mention that he is also endangering the health and well-being of his peers, who have arrived to class with the intent to learn."

Remus opened his mouth to protest that he felt fine enough to continue, when he saw Professor Essex looking at him thoughtfully.

"Yes, Master Lupin, perhaps it would be best if you are dismissed from the rest of your classes today. A visit to the infirmary would not go amiss. And after you're well rested, you may come find me in my office, after dinner, and present your rough draft for the Winter Exhibition."

Remus could see Lucius smirking in a self satisfied manner, but with Essex watching him, he could do nothing but nod reluctantly.

"Yes, Professor."

* * *

"I don't believe I've ever seen you before. Is this your first time here?"

"Yes," Remus smiled tentatively back, as he repositioned the sack on his shoulders, which contained all of his art supplies. "My name is Remus Lupin and I'm from the Royal Academy. I was wondering if it would be possible for me to sit for a few hours and complete some rough sketches."

"Not at all." The pretty girl with bright red hair and bottle green eyes stood in front of him, smiling warmly. From her modest dress, he could see that she was a ward of the church. "St. Paul's usually has a few art students every now and then who are eager to use the church as inspiration for their next piece. May I ask what you're specializing in?"

"Painting."

"Then, I believe you will especially enjoy the stained-glass windows in the east wing of the cathedral."

Remus nodded. "Thank you, I think I shall." He thanked her and made his way towards the east wing, as suggested. Walking past the pews, he couldn't help but marvel at the grand structure of the cathedral, and its vaulted ceilings and immense windows. All worked together to create a sort of bright, otherworldly appearance that Remus could only believe was blessed by the grace of heaven.

Setting up his easel in a well lighted corner, Remus began to make quick outlines of the archways and the intricate molding on the sides. He found that the light streaming through the stained glass windows was a playful contrast to the marble floors. Such intricate colors, blending and shifting with each passing minute as the sun continued its journey through the sky. Feverishly, Remus tried to capture it all before it became any darker.

"I once heard of a man who tried to paint the face of God," a voice whispered in his ear. Remus shivered as he felt Sirius' hot breath against his cheek. The faint smell of cinnamon and cloves tickled his nose.

"Where is that artist now?" Remus asked softly, half-expecting to know the answer already.

"Dead," Sirius said, his chin resting on Remus' shoulder. "He died without ever having painted a single stroke. It's funny how God created man in his image, and yet when we aspire to honor him by painting his portrait, God suddenly has qualms."

"Perhaps he fears being caught from a bad angle."

"Or perhaps he is waiting for someone worthy to capture his essence on paper," the dark haired boy whispered. He stepped away from Remus, walking towards the center of the room. The light stained him a myriad of colors, fracturing him in tiny pieces of gold and scarlet.

"And is that someone you, Monsieur Black?" Remus asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. As it was, his hand was trembling too badly to sketch properly.

"The heavens would strike me down where I stand."

"I hadn't pegged you as the God-fearing type," Remus smiled wanly. "You surprise me, Monsieur Black."

"There are many things one can call Lucius Malfoy, but a liar, unfortunately, is not one of them," Sirius said bitterly. "My story is no secret. English nobleman and his wife know about Walburga's disgrace. My mother became pregnant with me when she was sixteen. Of course being from The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, all capitalized, mind you, it caused quite a scandal. My grandfather, Pollux Black, refused to allow her to wed the poor sod who impregnated her, and so she was forced to sever all ties with him. Naturally, having a bastard son on the Black family tree was unheard of, so once I was born, my name was stricken from the records. I was left on the doorstep this cathedral and my mother ended up marrying her first cousin in a quiet ceremony in the countryside."

"How horrible." Remus moved to stand in front of his easel. To Sirius' surprise, Remus' eyes shown bright gold with compassion. From where he was standing, the dark haired boy could've sworn that the glow surrounding Remus formed a halo around his fair hair.

"Have you tried searching for your father?"

Sirius shook his head. "I didn't waste my breath. If he had known what was good for him, he would've left England years ago, like every other embarrassment that has afflicted the Black line."

"Except for you," Remus said quietly. "What made you stay?"

Sirius looked at the slender boy standing beside him, a pained expression in his dark eyes. "Don't think for a moment that my presence here is welcomed. If it hadn't been for Uncle Alphard's sponsorship, I doubt I would be standing here in front of you in, yes, these velvet _chausseurs_."

"He cares very much for you--"

"Thankless job that it is," Sirius said bitterly. "He would've been better off investing his time in his shipping routes. At least those would have yielded profitable returns." So sunk in his own self pity that when the first punch connected with his jaw, Sirius could only stand there blinking stupidly, more shocked than hurt. Remus on the other hand, seemed to be ablaze with self-righteous indignation.

"How dare you write off that man's generosity," Remus said furiously. Sirius could see that in his anger, Remus' eyes had turned into a burnished gold. Suddenly, the Frenchman seemed much more imposing than his slight build suggested. "What does it matter if your name doesn't appear in any family registries? At least you have the fortune of having someone of your own flesh and blood who is genuinely concerned for you. One who has stuck by you through hardships and continues to do so at the expense of his own reputation. That, Monsieur Black, is true family, and far outweighs the cost of some pretty calligraphy on a piece of parchment."

By the end of Remus' lecture, Sirius Black found himself in the rare position of having a loss for words. He could only stare at the light haired boy in front of him, who was panting harshly from prolonged speech. Remus, on the other hand, found that he could not meet Sirius' eyes; his own having been filled with tears. How long has it been since he spoke so passionately. Every single word that had been uttered from his lips, while true, had also been about his own family. The trials and tribulations he had suffered—all in the name of family. What family? Though the same blood ran through each of their veins, they were no more than strangers who just happened to share the same name. If he could, Remus would have gladly given up his own a long time ago.

"I apologize, I don't know what came over me," Remus said quickly, his voice slightly hoarse. His hands were now trembling very noticeably, so he grasped the top of is easel to steady himself. "Please ignore what I have just said. I've been feeling under the weather recently."

"It's quite alright," Sirius said, finally composing himself. "I've been a rather selfish person." Now that his surprise was overcome, the dark haired boy could see that Remus' eyes seemed unfocused and that a dull flush had stolen across his pale cheeks. Concerned, Sirius began slowly walking towards him. "But never mind about me. Are you feeling unwell? Should I call for a carriage to take you back to the Academy?"

"No, no, don't be ridiculous," Remus said faintly, waving Sirius away. His heart felt like it was racing a hundred times a minute, and strangely, it seemed to be quickening with each step Sirius took. "I feel fine. Besides, I want to finish these rough drafts before heading back. I'd like something to show Essex before the day is out."

But there seemed to be no stopping the other boy, as he held out a hand to touch Remus' cheek. As Sirius' hand came in contact with the light haired boy's feverish skin, the shock alone caused both of them to step back. Unfortunately for Remus, that step back caused the easel to lose its balance, sending both boy and canvas spilling on to the floor.

The last thought in Remus' mind, before the world turned black, was that Sirius' cool skin felt surprisingly good against his own.

* * *

"It's stress, no doubt about it, which contributed to Master Lupin's respiratory condition," Doctor Wolscroft said, packing his instruments.

He had been called to the Academy quite suddenly by two desperate looking boys, insisting that his presence was a matter of life and death. When he arrived, Wolscroft had expected his patient to be on death's door, but was relieved to find his charge was unconscious but very much alive, albeit with a nasty cold. Really, the dramatics youngsters threw these days. "He's probably gone and overworked himself, like every other student and collapsed from fatigue. A bit of rest, a hardy meal, and some cold medicine will set him right in no time. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have another house call to make." He nodded once to Master Potter and Master Pettigrew before walking out the door.

James waited until the doctor's footsteps could no longer be heard before rounding on his best friend with a suspicious gleam in is eye. "And what_ exactly_ transpired at the cathedral today to have caused young Remus to faint so suddenly?"

"I don't know," Sirius sighed. The truth was, he suspected Remus' outburst had aggravated his condition, but he could never explain the circumstances or the conversation that had lead up to that point. The less said on that matter, the better. "One moment he was standing, and then the next thing I knew, he suddenly collapsed. The paint spilled everywhere and ruined his canvas." The dark haired boy gestured to the mess at the far corner of Remus' room. "Luckily, Lily didn't say anything about the paint on the floor, or else I wouldn't have been able to take Remus back here without having scrubbed every speck of it off."

At the sound of Lily's name, James perked up. "Lily was there? How is she? Was she very frightened?"

"The incomparable Lily Evans fine," Sirius said rolling his eyes. "In fact, she was the one with the sense of mind to call for the carriage while I carried him out. The other pages were standing there completely useless." At each word, James seemed to swell up, as if Sirius was complimenting him, instead of Lily.

"If it wasn't something Sirius did, then it must have been my fault," Peter wailed, head in his hands. "I asked him to help me with my exhibition piece during lunch."

"I doubt missing lunch would have caused Remus to collapse," a new voice joined in. The boys turned to see Gideon walking into the room, his smock still littered with paint marks from his previous class. "I came by as soon as I heard. How is he?"

"Doctor Wolscroft says it's only a cold," James said, watching as the older boy leaned over the bed, placing a hand on Remus' forehead. "He should be fine in a few days."

"A cold, you say?" Gideon looked reproachfully at Sirius.

"Am I to understand that you're blaming Remus' condition on me?"

"It was selfish of you to have forced the poor boy to walk in that kind of weather, simply because you wanted to take the scenic route," Gideon frowned, referring to their trip to the Discard. "Can't you see he has a delicate constitution?"

"I am fully aware of his condition, Gideon. But he didn't seem to mind when I first suggested we walk." Sirius said furiously, angry more at himself than at the boy in front of him. Some part of Sirius knew that Remus' illness had been because of his desire to spend more time with the fair-headed boy. Thinking back on it now, Sirius realized that the trek to his uncle's house was mostly for his benefit—his selfish desire to have Remus all to himself, if only for a few moments. "I thought the fresh air would do him good after being stuck indoors for days. I was only trying to help!"

"I know you were, Sirius," a soft voice said from behind. "Which was why I agreed to go along in the first place."

Immediately, both boys closed their mouths and looked over to where Remus was struggling to sit up in bed.

Gideon frowned. "Remus, you should be laying down."

"I feel fine."

They looked at him with varying degrees of skepticism until Remus doubled over in another coughing fit.

"Your medicine," Gideon asked urgently, looking around the room. "Where is it?"

"Top right hand dresser," Remus gasped in-between coughs. He could taste the metallic taste of blood in his mouth.

Gideon handed him a small brown glass bottle which Remus took gratefully. Despite his shaking hands, he carefully uncorked the top and used a dropper to place a few drops on his tongue. Immediately, he could feel his cough subside and his breathing become more regular.

Beside him, his friends let out a collective sigh. "You had us worried there for a moment, mate," James said with a crooked smile.

Peter reached out to pat Remus' shoulder awkwardly. "It's a good thing you still had your medicine."

"Speaking of which," Gideon said, looking at Remus curiously. "There didn't seem to be much left."

Remus looked at the bottle lying innocently in his hand. "I didn't have the chance to stock up before coming here."

Three weeks of hard traveling had taken a toll on the light haired boy, and subsequently, he adjusted his doses accordingly. There was little more than one-fifth of the bottle remaining, and without the doctor to write a refill, Remus had been trying his best to save what little he had left. He had hoped that a drop every few days would suffice until he could find another doctor in England to write out another prescription. This particular belladonna extract was illegal and particularly difficult to find, but if worse came to worse, he could always rely on the more shady parts of town to restock his supply.

"If you'd like, I could pick up a new bottle tomorrow," Sirius offered. "What should I ask for?"

"You don't have to go through the trouble," Remus said shifting uncomfortably. He didn't like lying to his friends, but he had little recourse as they would surely connect the medicine with his illness—something he would never allow to happen. His grasp on the bottle grew tighter. "It's a special remedy my family doctor had made especially for me. I doubt there would be a pharmacist that carried this particular brand."

"But what will happen if you should run out before you get better?" Peter asked.

"I'm expecting a package from home any day now," Remus said glibly. "It should arrive before the week is out."

"Nevertheless, I think it might be best if you take up Sirius' offer and have him pick up a bottle of All-Heal just in case your package is somehow delayed," Gideon said. "It wouldn't be any trouble at all, would it, Sirius?"

For a moment it looked as if Sirius was going to refuse outright, just because it had been Gideon who asked, but seeing the look on Remus' face, he forced a smile and nodded.

"Excellent," Gideon said, still watching Sirius. "Now that everything has been taken care of, I suggest we let Remus rest before he has a relapse."

"Agreed," James said patting Remus' head. "The Headmaster has already notified your professors of your illness. They won't be expecting you back for another few days, so take that time to fully recuperate."

"I'll come by and visit you often," Peter added. "So if you need anything, don't hesitate to let me know."

"Thank you," Remus sighed.

At James' nod, each boy said their good-byes and left the room until the only person was Sirius. He had hung back, ignoring the disapproving look Gideon threw his way before the older boy also left.

"Listen, Remus," Sirius began hesitantly. "I wanted to apologize about earlier. What you said about Uncle Alphard…"

"I was at fault," Remus said softly. "I had no right to trespass on old family grievances. It was unfair of me to expect you to listen to an outsider. I doubt I would have appreciated very much if you had stuck your nose into my affairs."

"No, not at all," Sirius protested. "What you said was the truth. Undeniably so. I feel like right bastard for having burdened you with personal problems that you did not expect or ask for."

"Well, you're right about one thing," Remus said smiling faintly. "You are a right bastard. But as for the rest of it, you couldn't be more wrong. While it's true that I did not ask about your family affairs, I feel honored that you would trust me enough to impart such delicate information, especially when I can see that it still causes you pain to speak of it."

"You're the first person I've ever told," Sirius admitted. "Everyone else heard of it from rumors and tabloids. Even James has never asked me about my past, though we've been friends for so many years. It's like an elephant in your living room that everyone can see, but no one wishes to speak of."

There was a moment of silence as Remus carefully reached out to clasp Sirius' hand and squeeze it gently. It was only a brief gesture, but Sirius could feel the warmth of its embrace.

"Speak," he whispered. "And I will hear."


	6. Chapter 6

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine**

Chapter 6: Blame

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.

Author's Notes: Sometimes you just sit there and think and the words don't come at all. Other times you're talking on the phone, cutting vegetables, and waiting for the pot to boil when inspiration strikes.

* * *

_**Was it you or me who made the first move?  
**__**The last?**_

* * *

The next few days Remus spent in bed were mostly uneventful.

True to his promise, Peter did stop by during his breaks to bring Remus' assignments. Though he may have been excused from classes, Remus' absence didn't give him a free pass to slack off.

Sirius too had insisted on staying and watching over him while he slept, but after Remus had caught the dark-haired boy staring at him when he woke up, Sirius made a point to leave whenever Remus showed any sign of drowsiness. He did, however, visit frequently, and would bring pictures and newspaper clippings to help alleviate the tedium that accompanied recovery.

"How's the patient feeling today?" Sirius asked, poking his head in the doorway.

"_Bien_. Much better," Remus said. His headache seemed to be fading while his cough had stopped drawing blood. All symptoms of a speedy recovery, in his opinion.

"I have a surprise for you," Sirius said, cheerfully plopping down on Remus' bed. He raked his fingers through his jet black hair as he grinned at the boy sitting beside him.

"I believe that's what you said last time," Remus said ruefully, as he moved to make room for the dark-haired boy. "If I remember correctly, that particular surprise was the reason I'm here now."

"You'll like this one," Sirius promised. "And it won't involve any physical exertion on your part."

"That's more like it." Remus smiled, contently propped up in his bed.

The dark haired boy pulled out his satchel and emptied its contents on the bed. Out spilled glossy black and white photographs filled with people smiling and chatting, while holding champagne flutes. One in particular caught Remus' eye.

"Is that you?" The light haired boy looked surprised. The picture was a close-up of Sirius grinning broadly and looking quite dashing in his dress shirt. The only thing that seemed to detract from the photography was that his eyes seemed to stray to the right, as if he were watching someone else besides the photographer.

Sirius puffed out his chest. "Came out quite well, if I do say so myself."

"Goodness, _Monsieur_ Black," Remus admonished. "Are you always so terribly vain?"

"A necessary condition which invariably accompanies those who are absurdly good-looking."

"Absurd is certainly an apt description," Remus said wryly.

"Remus, you wound me," Sirius cried in mock distress, placing a hand over his heart. "And to think I had planned on allowing you to keep a photograph as a keepsake."

"Do you mean it? Any one I want?" Remus smiled delightedly as a warm glow seemed to suffuse his entire being. At the sight, Sirius felt himself smiling back and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch the younger boy for fear that warmth would disappear. Instead, he nodded encouragingly and watched as Remus rifled through the pile, searching for a particular picture. He discarded photo after photo until he reached the last. "I'd like this one, if you don't mind."

"Why that one?"

If Remus had heard the strained quality of Sirius' voice, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he delicately placed the photography of Gideon on the nightstand drawer and settled back in bed. "It will be perfect for the painting."

"You intend to use him as the subject of your exhibition piece?"

Remus shook his head, looking slightly puzzled at Sirius' expression. "Peter told me his birthday is only a few days away. I was hoping to finish a portrait of him before then, but I had nothing to use as a reference," he explained. "It would hardly be a surprise if I asked him to sit for me while I finished it in front of him."

"Peter talks too much," Sirius muttered darkly. To Remus he said, "And besides, you're not to do any strenuous work. Doctor's orders."

"Don't be ridiculous, I feel perfectly fine."

"I seem to recall hearing those exact words before," Sirius said coldly. "I think it was right before you collapsed."

His words were like a slap to the face, and Remus' eyes flashed angrily. But before he could make a scathing retort, there was a knock on the door.

"I hope I am not interrupting, gentlemen," Dumbledore said, with a touch of amusement as he entered the room. His periwinkle cloak swished charmingly behind him.

"Not at all, Headmaster," Remus shook his head, slightly embarrassed at the proximity between him and Sirius. He hadn't noticed how close they had gotten through their exchange. Their arms rested side by side while their knees touched ever so slightly. Remus blushed as he shifted away to a respectable distance. What a sight they must make!

"I commend you on your strict work ethic, Monsieur Lupin," Dumbledore smiled, looking at the pile of books perched on his nightstand. "But I must insist that you do not overexert yourself. It would be most unfortunate if you should suffer a relapse."

"No worries, Headmaster," Sirius said grimly, shooting a bitterly triumphant look at Remus. It seemed his earlier statement was on the mark after all. "I've been keeping a close eye on him."

Dumbledore hummed approvingly, seemingly oblivious to the tension that hung around the two boys. "Professor Essex has expressed concern over your health, and would like me to tell you that he is most eager to see what you have come up with as an exhibition piece."

Remus' eyes flitted guiltily to the far corner of his room, where the mess of paint and canvas had yet to be tidied. Would he ever have something to show Essex? The pounding in his head seemed to be returning with a vengeance. "Please send my regrets—"

"Of course," Dumbledore smiled. "Now, I shall take my leave and allow you to continue resting. Sirius, may I have a word with you in my office?"

The dark haired boy looked momentarily surprised before quickly nodding. Without a word of good-bye, he quickly gathered up the pictures strewed across the bed and grabbed his satchel. Remus felt as if he should say something before Sirius left, not wanting to part on bad terms, but the dark haired boy didn't even look back. The Headmaster nodded once again and they both left, chatting amicably about Alphard's latest party.

Watching them leave, Remus felt a certain amount of resentment from the other boy's abrupt departure. Really, the argument had been Sirius' fault to begin with. He was the one who insisted on treating the fair headed boy like a porcelain doll and quite frankly all this coddling was beginning to get wearing on Remus, who just wanted to be treated like everyone else.

"Funny, I thought you'd be feeling better by now."

Remus started at Peter's unexpected entrance. He wasn't really in the mood for company, but looking at the folder in Peter's hands, the other boy clearly had other thoughts. "_Mais oui_. I'm glad my confinement is almost at an end."

The short boy shrugged, pursing his lips. "I'd switch places with you any day if it would get me an extension on the Winter Exhibition. It's due next week, you know, and because of the limited space, each professor is only allowed to sponsor five students every year. So that means some students spend the entire semester preparing for a showcase that is given to someone else. Professor Essex has already chosen three: Aubrey Bertram, Dirk Cresswell, and Rodolphus Lestrange."

"Only two slots remain," Remus breathed, clutching his quilt tightly. A nervous sort of feeling had settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought of his uncompleted project.

"Of course you're favored to be selected," Peter added hastily. "Just yesterday I overheard Essex talking to one of the teaching assistants. You're supposed to be some kind of genius."

"Or something," Remus muttered to himself.

"Which was why I wanted to ask if you would take a look at the revisions I made to my earlier composition," Peter continued, when he saw Remus' thoughtful expression. His beady eyes shined with excitement. "What you said before about the lighting was spot-on. And if we work together, I just know we'll both be picked."

He looked so hopeful standing there that Remus didn't have the heart to tell him that Peter would probably be one of the unfortunate students who would be rejected in favor of another. His drafts were utterly plain and without individuality. At first glance, they looked to be copied straight from a student textbook, which Remus suspected was the primary source of Peter's inspiration. But instead of telling him so, the light haired boy smiled weakly and pointed out some minor flaws that still needed to be corrected.

A while later, James also stopped in to bring dinner and news of the outside world. The presence of Peter and James distracted Remus enough so that he didn't notice that Sirius hadn't returned until well after supper was over.

* * *

The next day, Remus awoke to find that his cough was all but cleared up, and that he was feeling more energetic than during all the days he had spent in bed. He decided that he was now well enough to return to classes, and decided to skip breakfast in the Dining Hall in order to complete a few sketches to present to Professor Essex. Before James had left the other night, he had hinted that Lucius, with his family's connections, was the favorite to be chosen to fill one of the slots.

As it was, Remus was at a huge disadvantage. He hoped that by catching Essex before class began, then perhaps he would be able to tip the scales in his favor, or at least impress the Professor with his work ethic. Perhaps then, if he wasn't chosen, he would still be able to take part in advanced studies.

Unfortunately, this similar train of thought must have been shared by the majority of the painter's division, for when Remus finally arrived in front of Essex's classroom, a huge crowd had already gathered outside, talking animatedly.

"…terrible, isn't it?"

"The Board of Governors won't be pleased…"

"…wonder if the papers have gotten wind of this yet…"

Remus, puzzled at the furious whispering, tapped a student next to him. "Excuse me, has something happened?"

"Haven't you heard?" the boy asked him a breathless expression. "Someone broke into Essex's classroom and tore it apart. Easels upturned, paint bottles upset. It's all a frightful mess."

Remus' eyes widened at the news. "Have they caught the culprit?"

"No," the boy shook his head. "The person responsible didn't leave anything incriminating behind, but the teachers reckon that a student from the painting division is responsible. They're pulling aside all the students that Essex had rejected from participating in the Winter Exhibition for questioning. Times like these I'm happy I'm a sculptor." The boy shook his head and went back to talking with his friend.

Feeling faint, Remus started walking unsteadily back to his room, ignoring the whispers and sideways looks he was receiving. Despite the loud conversations everyone was engaged in, Remus could hear faint whispers of "Frenchman" and "Foreigner" scattered throughout. The light haired boy could feel himself turning pale. Suddenly Remus wasn't feeling very well at all. In fact, he felt absolutely sick to his stomach.

* * *

That evening, the Student Council was convened. Originally created to regulate inter-House affairs, the Student Council served as a liaison between the student body and the Board of Governors. It brought up matters the students of each House deemed important, and acted as an unofficial court to which students are able to bring forth minor grievances and petty disputes to be judged by peers.

Traditionally, each House was allowed three representatives, who were elected by popular vote. Four divisions present included the painter's, sculptor's, jeweler's, and print-maker's division. However, since the painter's division was made up of over three-fifths of the student population, there was protest for them to be allotted more council members. Leading the protest was Lucius Malfoy, who many considered to be the head representative of the painter's division.

When the motion for proportional representation was passed, James was disgusted to note that while the other Houses' representatives were reduced, the painter's division was practically doubled. Armed with five representatives, the painter's division was granted more clout in student affairs—their cases brought forth quickly, while the judgments more generous. None of the other Houses were able to do much unless they banded together to overrule Lucius, which was difficult to do in a consistent manner, as long-standing quarrels between the Houses kept them from forming a permanent alliance.

James crossed his hands and shot a glare at Lucius Malfoy, who he could see sitting in his chair regally, regarding everyone else with a disdain in his ice blue eyes. His cronies from the painter's division sat close by, whispering amongst themselves. The print-maker's representatives, Orson and Catwell, sat across from him seemingly bored. Inter-House affairs that did not concern members of their House usually held little interest for them. On James' left sat Sirius, twirling his Academy ring absently, the silver winking in the candlelight.

His friend had been oddly quiet all evening and when James pressed him for a reason, Sirius just shook his head and continued twiddling with his ring. This only exasperated James even more as it was clear that his best friend was sulking and if his suspicions were correct, a certain fair headed boy was the likely culprit.

"The Student Council Meeting will now come to order," McNair intoned, pounding a slim gavel. There was a scraping of chairs as the representatives took their seats. The previous hum of furious whispering quieted as Lucius stood to take the floor.

"The Council may already know of the incident which occurred today, but I wish to summarize for the benefit of those who may not have been present to receive a first-hand account," Lucius announced, nodding to the two representatives of the jeweler's division who had been away at a workshop. They had returned immediately upon receiving the Council's emergency summons. "Professor Essex, an esteemed member of the Academy's faculty, has been targeted by a member of the student body. His classroom and the connecting office have been brutally vandalized by what teachers surmise is the work of one individual. Nothing has been stolen, which rules out a simple burglary. However, because of the violent nature of this incident, it cannot be written off as a simple prank. The Headmaster and the other division heads are in the midst of interrogating several prime suspects, who they believe may have felt slighted by Professor Essex's decision to exclude them from the upcoming exhibition."

"Have we ruled out the possibility a saboteur from the outside?" Bode, from the jeweler's division, asked curiously. "Perhaps a rival art salon?"

"The servants, along with the Groundskeeper, Master Filch, have been questioned as to what they observed the night before," James interjected. "There have been no strangers reported on school grounds. As for the visitors, Headmaster Dumbledore has already assured me that we will not find the perpetrator among them. However, several students were seen skulking around after hours. I have compiled a list with their names and House affiliation and given it to the Headmaster." He passed around copies of the list for each representative.

"Your list seems to be incomplete, Potter," Lucius drawled. He looked up from the parchment in his hands and tapped it imperiously. "I do not see the name Remus Lupin on this list of potential suspects."

"Until just today, Remus Lupin had been incapacitated with a serious illness which forced him to stay bedridden," Sirius said coldly. "This fact can be confirmed by the Headmaster, who approved his absence from class. Do we have reason to believe otherwise, Malfoy?"

"It may be prudent to note that this type of tasteless incident has never before occurred at the Royal Academy and that the only recent change is the addition of Master Lupin." The last part was spat with disdain.

"What physical evidence do you submit to support this slanderous accusation?" Sirius glared at his arch-nemesis with balled fists clenched tightly by his side. He could see James trying to catch his eye, but he ignored his friend in favor of staring down the poisonous viper in front of him.

"None whatsoever," Lucius said calmly. He seemed to be amused at getting a rise out of Sirius. "I am merely speculating, as we all are."

The Council erupted with a flurry of whispers, as they began discussing the possibility of Remus being the perpetrator. Some acknowledged that the fair-headed boy had been recently ill, while others conveniently forgot about his incapacitation and expressed an outright distrust of Remus and his French heritage. Truly there was no love lost between the two nations.

"Furthermore, I see no reason why ceramics-makers see the need to involve themselves with the affairs of the painter's division," Lucius said coldly to James. "This is an intra-House matter and should be settled as such."

"The level hatred and anger of capable of such vandalism concerns the entire Academy, Councilman Malfoy," James said, his hazel eyes flashing. "For though the school is divided into different Houses, we share common goals, which are placed in jeopardy should news of this occurrence become public knowledge."

"Which is why," Lucius interrupted. "The Headmaster, along with several members of the faculty, has asked the Student Council to form an Investigation Board to make queries into this matter, and to hopefully, catch the culprit behind it."

"And the members of this Board," Councilman Shacklebolt, another representative of the sculptor's division, frowned. "I presume they will be chosen by you, Malfoy?"

"Who else did you have in mind?" Lucius sneered. "Certainly not the entire Student Council. It would take far too long to vote on every member that is to be appointed to the Investigation Board, and making it a school-wide assembly is hardly a feasible alternative. As you have just said, this matter should be looked into with the utmost secrecy and discretion as to avoid becoming fodder for the morning paper."

"What shall happen once the Investigation Board has found the person responsible?" Sturgis Podmore's voice cut in curiously.

"The culprit will be promptly expelled and escorted off the grounds, of course," Lucius said with an arched eyebrow, as if this was the most obvious answer. "In addition, he will be heavily fined the cost of repairs and if he is unable to compensate the school, his sentence will be forfeit to the mercy of the English court."

"You would send a student of the Academy to suffer the dungeons of Azkaban?"

"You seem to forget, Potter, the enormity of this offense," Lucius said with a hard look in his eye. He ignored the whispers of the other council members. "If we are to prevent such acts of vandalism from happening again, the person responsible for this terrible act must be made an example of. This will send a message to all other potential perpetrators that blatant disregard for school property will not be tolerated."

"Then I propose that the Council also create a Review Board composed of a representative from each House to oversee the inquiries made by the Investigation Board," Sirius declared and was pleased at the look of sour dissatisfaction on Lucius' face. "And I would like to nominate myself to represent the painter's division."


	7. Chapter 7

**Velvet Rouge avec Black Wine**

Chapter 7: Review

Disclaimer: Names and property rights of Harry Inc. are confined to Madam J.K Rowling.

Author's Notes: Just something to tide me over.

* * *

**The final touches done over and over again until a masterpiece is formed from an intricate design of banality.**

* * *

The days following the Student Council meeting, the Investigation Board began to call on students who had appeared on Groundskeeper Fitch's list for questioning. There seemed to be no deliberate order to the list and some students found themselves spirited away for several hours at a time, while others were released in a matter of minutes. Despite the presence of the Review Board during the interviews, rumors began to circulate about Lucius' provocative manner of questioning—so much so that students now referred to it as the Inquisition Board.

Nothing was deemed off limits to the Board and with the Malfoys' connection to all manner of government institutions, it wasn't a problem for Lucius to procure the records of every student that came in for questioning. The Academy was thick with salacious gossip and suspicion, made worse by the fact that the one student they all believed to have been responsible had yet to be called upon.

Remus, however, was under no such disillusions. The fact that he had yet to be asked in only reaffirmed his belief that the Investigation Board was making inquiries into his past to build up a stronger case against him. It was only a matter of time before Crabbe and Goyle would appear to escort him to the Investigation Board. The thought of Malfoy making public his private scandal was enough to make him break out into a cold sweat. He had thought that the events of that warm April morning had been safely buried with his father's money and influence. However, under Lucius' close scrutiny, the lies that had been so carefully fabricated stood to be unraveled at any moment. Remus' feeling of anxiety was made worse by the fact that he had no one to confide to. Every night, he was visited with terrible dreams of being found out, and being inevitably shunned by the people he now called friends. The accusing stares and malicious whispers of his nightmares kept him from sleep. But instead of succumbing to exhaustion, he spent the nights in frenzied production, refining his submission piece.

It had taken him weeks to settle on a suitable subject. Curiously, it had been Sirius who had helped him make the final decision. Remus would freely admit that there was something about the dark haired boy with his careless arrogance that he found intriguing. The planes of his face and the animation his expressions lent were utterly fascinating to behold and left an impression long after the older boy was out of sight.

It embarrassed Remus to use Sirius as his subject matter without first asking the other boy's permission, but since Sirius seemed to be preoccupied as of late, he had no other choice. Peter had informed him of Sirius' position as head of the Review Board and James had confirmed it, taking particular note of the long hours the dark haired boy now kept writing long missives which were posted by the morning carrier. No one but members of the Student Council had seen the dark haired boy longer than the few seconds it took to pass by him in the hallways—those who did were surprised to find the oddly serious expression that seemed to be fixed on Sirius' face.

And yet, despite the uncertainty he faced, something about painting the other boy excited Remus. The longing expression that had been on the Sirius' face while he stood, bathed in the refracted light of the cathedral's stained glass windows, haunted Remus. It was a combination of desire, fear and despair like nothing he had seen before and yet so wholly perfect that it had left him breathless.

That was the emotion he wanted his painting of Ganymede to impart as he was raised into the heavens. Half ecstasy, half anguish, it would be Remus' finest work which would correct the emotional defects of his past compositions and add a depth that critics had always said he lacked. And so he worked into the nights, trying to perfect each nuance of Ganymede's expression even as he waited anxiously to be summoned by the Investigation Board.

Remus thinks it's ironic that the day his submission is completed is the day that the Investigation Board finally decides to call on him. After days of seclusion, he had ventured forth from his room in the wee hours of the morning, just as the first rays of daylight peeked through the clouds. The halls seemed eerily empty, devoid of the warmth that was usually generated by the press of student bodies within the corridors. He had just placed his folio on Professor Essex's desk when he became aware of the presence of two very large individuals on either side of him.

"_Est-ce que je peux vous aider?_ May I help you?"

Goyle, the larger of the two, grunted jerking his head to indicate that they should leave the room. "Come with us."

"And if I don't?" Remus asked, more curious than challenging.

Crabbe cracked his knuckles ominously. "You don't want to know."

And so that was how Remus found himself being shepherded down the freezing corridors, sandwiched between Malfoy's escorts, unable to do much but shiver underneath his thin robes. Luckily, it didn't take long before they arrived at their destination. The room itself was down an obscure corridor, but was much more spacious than it looked on the outside. It was also, Remus was happy to note, equipped with a fireplace.

A large wooden table took up the better half of the room and seated at the head was none other than Lucius Malfoy, staring balefully at Remus with his icy blue eyes. A handful of other students were similarly present, seated on either side of the table, with expressions ranging from bored indifference to outright dislike. Remus had seen them all in passing, most of whom kept company with Malfoy. If James' description of the Student Council was accurate, then the seven who sat before him were the seven most powerful students within their respective Divisions, if not in the entire school, with the ability to see him expelled if they deemed it necessary. The Council's power of expulsion had not been called into action for almost a decade, but Remus knew that they would have no qualms against using it against a dangerous outsider whose presence threatened the integrity of the Academy.

After weeks of worrying, Remus found that he felt oddly detached to the scene at hand. There was little else he could offer to counter the accusations that were to be levied upon him other than his word. There was no doubt in his mind that his guilt had already been decided beforehand and his presence now was merely for show. Once this hearing was over, he would be placed on the next coach headed to France, if not placed into police custody for destroying school property.

McNair, from his seat in the corner cleared his throat. "Now that the subject in question is present, I believe we should carry on with the hearing."

The sandy haired boy on Lucius' far left looked pointedly at the empty seat across from him. "It seems that Master Black has been delayed. Perhaps we should postpone this hearing until a later time."

"Councilman Black was made aware of the time of this hearing beforehand," Lucius Malfoy replied coldly. "The fact that he has failed to make an appearance will not affect the ruling of the Investigation Board. Furthermore, as a member of the Review Board, his presence is not mandatory by Student Council law, and so this hearing will proceed as scheduled. Black may peruse the minutes of this meeting at a later time at his leisure."

Remus could not stop the rush of disappointment that washed over him as he heard Malfoy's announcement. Sirius had known of his upcoming hearing and had chosen not to come. Of course the older boy had no obligation to do so, but Remus had thought that their friendship—if such a tenuous relationship could be called that—had meant more.

Somehow, the thought of Sirius believing the malicious gossip being spread about upset Remus more than the fact that his future as an artist was now at an end. No respectable European institution would take him after his expulsion. He would be forced to return home to the suffocating quiet of the countryside to languish in ennui until he went mad. And despite the horrifying future in front of him, the only thing Remus wanted now was for Sirius to believe in his innocence.

"Remus Lupin, third year transfer student of the Painter's Division." Sturgis Podmore of the Review Board nodded. "You have been brought before the Investigation Board to aid with a pending investigation regarding the vandalism that occurred in the East Wing of the Academy, specifically the classroom and office of Professor Essex, a highly regarded instructor of the Painter's Division. Please be advised that it is in your best interest to be completely forthright with the Investigation Board. Now, if you would be so kind as to recount, to the best of your ability, your movements on the day of November 26th."

"I spent the entirety of it in my chambers, confined to my bed. Meals were brought by friends as I spent most of the day catching up with my studies, with an occasional social call."

"Forgive me if I find that difficult to believe," Councilman Parkinson sneered, his pug-like nose crinkling with distain. "From what I understand, you were excused from classes because of an unexplained malady for over a week. Do you mean to tell me that this illness was so serious that it had you incapacitated to the point of being bed-ridden?"

"That is correct."

"And yet you were lucid enough to complete late assignments?" Montague, another Investigation member, commented with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't you find such activities strenuous in your poor condition?"

"I may have been physically bed-ridden, but my mental faculties were fully functional, I assure you," Remus replied.

"Then why is it then that school records only show of one doctor's visit?" Parkinson asked, continuing his questioning. Lucius, who sat to his right simply regarded Remus with cool distain, evidently satisfied with allowing his attack dog to carry on with his interrogation. "Surely such a serious condition warranted doctoral supervision to check on the progress of the patient's health?"

"Since childhood, I have had a poor constitution—a result of having weak lungs," Remus explained. "This, unfortunately, has made me more susceptible to the cold. It is not uncommon for me to miss several days of class every month because of this. I'm afraid that this particular month, my health has been severely taxed by extensive travel and brisk English weather. Illness was inevitable. I had informed Doctor Wolscroft of all this during his visit and he believed that my condition did not require constant supervision, recommending several days of bed rest."

"Who can verify this account?" McNair asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

"Sirius Black, Headmaster Dumbledore, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew," Remus replied softly. The names were duly noted by the secretary. "The last two were with me well into the night. Immediately afterwards, I retired for the day."

"And how late was that?" Kingsley inquired.

"I can't say I recall," Remus frowned, trying to remember. "A few candle marks past midnight I suppose."

"And so you would have had time to leave your room and travel down the East wing to Professor Essex's classroom?" Parkinson pressed.

"Entirely circumstantial," Kingsley made a dismissive motion. "I dare say any student would be capable of leaving their rooms after hours."

"Ah," Parkinson tutted, his eyes still fastened on Remus. "Perhaps it is fortunate then that Lupin does not have a room-mate. It would make any after-hour excursions easier to hide."

"It is true that I do not share my living quarters with another student," Remus admitted. "I felt my illness would inconvenience anyone who was assigned to room with me. The Headmaster agreed. However, I did not request it for the purpose of sneaking out after-hours."

"You seem to have a close relationship with the Headmaster," Councilman Warrington remarked slyly from Lucius' left hand side. His dark blue eyes glimmered with amusement at Remus' discomfort. "Perhaps he has been giving you preferential treatment…?"

Remus felt his ears turn red. "Of course not!"

"This line of questioning will get us nowhere," Catwell interjected, slightly annoyed. "I suggest we move on from this topic."

"Agreed. Councilman Malfoy, you spoke before of having supplementary information that may assist in the pending investigation," Podmore raised an eyebrow. "Would you happen to have this information at hand?"

"Unfortunately I do not. My source has been inexplicably delayed," Lucius said frostily, his icy gaze narrowed. "It seems that I am having some difficultly extracting the necessary papers from Lupin's former school. Apparently, they have been taken out of public circulation. No one apart from select family members is allowed access to his files. Quite convenient, is it not?"

Amidst the general murmur of agreement, a voice from the doorway spoke up. "I think I can provide an explanation for that."

Seven heads turned to see the Headmaster standing at the doorway with an amused expression on his face. In his hands were a thick stack of papers, bound together by a leather cord. At the top was the official seal of the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts. Remus' eyes widened at the sight. Surely not! 

"I had requested that they be transferred once Master Lupin was enrolled," the Headmaster continued, seemingly oblivious to Lucius' stormy expression. "I'm afraid the Registrar has been lax in updating the school records, which is why I felt it was my duty to bring them personally. Fortunately, it seems that I am just in time," Dumbledore said cheerfully, taking a seat beside Remus. He did not address the light haired boy directly, choosing instead to direct his gaze towards Malfoy who looked very much displeased at his presence.

At the sight of Dumbledore's calm expression, Remus found himself unconsciously relaxing. He had promised that he would take measures to prevent Remus' past from being brought to public. There would be nothing to worry about.

"I was not aware that the Headmaster had so much interest in the affairs of the Student Council," Lucius drawled. "Or perhaps it is the subject in question that the Headmaster has taken an interest to?"

"I assure you, Councilman Malfoy, that my participation here ends with the delivery of Master Lupin's files," Dumbledore smiled to the group. "However, I am curious as to the outcome of this hearing, and so I believe I shall stay on to hear of it first-hand. Please do not allow my presence to affect your decision-making, gentlemen."

"Indeed it will not," Lucius smiled smugly. "For surely, the Investigation Board and the Review Board members have sufficient evidence to name the culprit responsible. I move to call for an immediate verdict rendering."

Remus was momentarily confused until he realized the reasoning behind Malfoy's urgency. With the members as they were, the Investigation Board, who were under the thumb of Lucius Malfoy, were in the clear majority. Even if Remus had managed to convince all the Review Board members of his innocence, the vote would still be 4-3 in favor of Malfoy. He felt his stomach churn sickeningly. Would this be how the hearing ended?

"Wait a moment," Kingsley said abruptly, forestalling any action. "In light of this new evidence, I believe a recess is in order to review all the available material. No decision will be made during this period, after which, Remus Lupin will be called again to continue questioning."

Lucius' eyes flashed angrily. "I see no point in extending this hearing. I believe it is clear to everyone--"

"Perhaps," Kingsley said shrugging. "But I'm sure if the decision is clear, then a candle mark or two will not make a difference either way. I would hate to have the credibility of the Investigation Board questioned by the students."

Lucius' lips pursed into a thin line as he realized he had no other choice but to agree. As a member of the Review Board, Kingsley was within his rights to call for an extension to evaluate new evidence. "Fine," he said shortly, sounding displeased with the turn of events. "The hearing will resume after one candle mark—no longer."

* * *

Remus had barely stepped foot outside of the Investigation Chambers when he was grabbed by one Sirius Black.

"Keep quiet and follow me," Sirius hissed, dragging Remus through the back corridors, avoiding the larger crowds of students milling around the main hallways. Taken aback, the light haired boy kept silent, allowing him to be tugged along. It wasn't until they arrived to his room that Sirius rounded on Remus with dark eyes flashing.

"Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"

"That's right. You weren't there, were you?" Remus said dully, shivering slightly. He walked to his dresser and dug out a heavy winter cloak. Compared to the previous room, his chambers were bare, lacking heating appliances and a fireplace that most dorm rooms boasted. The temperature wasn't what had Remus shaking, but it was a plausible excuse nonetheless. "Still, I'm sure you can piece together what happened."

"Humor me," Sirius grounded out, annoyed by Remus' recalcitrance.

The boy in front of him shrugged. "I was called in, Malfoy questioned me about my missing school records, and Dumbledore supplied them. Now they've called for a temporary recess to look at the new material. End of story."

"What did you tell them when you were questioned?"

"The truth."

"You know," Sirius frowned. "That kind of evasive, insubstantial codswallop might work on Malfoy and the Investigation Board, but not me. You know perfectly well that the papers Dumbledore gave to Malfoy were forged."

At the last part, Remus' head whipped up and he shot a guilty look at the boy in front of him.

"You knew all along?" the light haired boy paled. "Then you must think I'm guilty." The last part was said in subdued tones, more to himself than Sirius.

"What makes you think that?"

"You weren't at the hearing earlier," Remus said with downcast eyes. "I thought…"

"Thought what?"

"I thought you had abandoned me," the light haired boy whispered.

"I never doubted you," Sirius said gravely, lifting Remus' chin so that the younger boy met his gaze. Something in his eyes must have reassured Remus for he seemed to relax a fraction. "In fact, I was the one who forged them in the first place."

"Wha-?" The expression on Remus' face was priceless. Sirius was almost tempted to smile.

"I knew Malfoy would try to use whatever resources that were at his disposal to uncover any information he could about you, so I tapped a few of Uncle Alphard's connections in France to see if they would be able to obtain your files before Malfoy got his hands on them," Sirius said frowning slightly. Remus was struck with the memory of what James had said earlier about Sirius writing missives well into the night. Had that been all for him?

"But despite my best efforts," Sirius continued. "It seems that your records had already been sealed—buried underneath so much legal tape that my source was flagged and called in for questioning by the French police. He was detained for several days for showing an inappropriate amount of interest in a closed case. Once I heard this, I realized then that Malfoy would also have difficult time obtaining those records, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and have your papers forged. A few modifications here and there and it seems that Remus Lupin was quite the sickly child whose parents withdrew him from school after a nasty bout of pneumonia to recuperate in the warm countryside. "

"That's quite a tale," Remus shook his head.

"But plausible, which is the only thing that matters," Sirius insisted. "I thought Malfoy would have some suspicions if I had been the one to provide the papers, which was why I asked Dumbledore to deliver them. I was also conveniently absent, so that the Investigation Board couldn't declare the decision of the Review Board biased since we're such good friends."

Remus found himself blushing at the last two words. Good friends. How foolish he had been to doubt Sirius. For all of his jokes and flippant remarks, the dark haired boy was surprisingly dependable in times of crisis.

Sirius' eyes narrowed speculatively at Remus' thoughtful silence. "Tell me what really happened."

"I can't…" Wide golden eyes pleaded Sirius not to ask and the dark haired boy couldn't help but wonder just what Remus was trying so very hard to hide.

"I'm simply trying to help, Remus," Sirius tried to assure him. "I can't do that if you're not honest with me." He wasn't sure if he was gratified by Remus' expression, which was held an equal amount of confusion and shame. It was as if the light haired boy hadn't expected such loyalty from a friend, and was unsure as to how to react.

Remus was silent for a time, and Sirius wondered if the fair headed boy trusted him enough by now to share a little of what was on his mind. Their budding friendship hadn't been exposed to the most favorable conditions, but Sirius believed that his relationship with the Frenchman would be one of the most important ones of his entire life. This very moment could possibly make or break their friendship, depending on Remus' response. For if there was something Sirius Black could not abide, it was liars.

"Please."

Remus seemed to sense some type of urgency behind Sirius' request, for he hesitated only for a moment before finally nodding slowly.

"There was…an _incident_…a few years ago, involving myself and another year mate. As you might expect, competition at L'École is quite cut-throat. A painting couldn't be finished without the risk of some minor sabotage. In my third year, a complaint was brought up against me and through some strange circumstance, I was thought to be the guilty party. The Board of Governors discreetly asked that I take an extended leave of absence for the remainder of the semester, with the assurance that I would be able to return after the scandal died down. But after a few years of languishing in my parent's country cottage, I finally realized that I would never be called back and so I found myself here, trying to start anew."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Did you do it?"

"Everyone seemed to think so. Nothing I said otherwise seemed to make a difference. Not even my parents believed me." Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. His eyes took on a far away look, momentarily disconnected with the present. His face was completely blank, except for the shadows that flitted through his golden orbs. Sirius realized then the full import of Remus' earlier statement, '_I thought you had abandoned me_.' It was a wonder that the light haired boy had any capacity to trust after being forsaken by the ones closest to him. Blood was supposed to be thicker than water and so it hurt all the more to be turned away by the very people who were supposed to love you unconditionally. Sirius himself had experienced a similar feeling, and he doubted, if he would ever be able to wholly trust another person again without reserve.

"What happened to your real records?"

"Like your source said, they've been sealed," Remus said softly. "After I was dismissed from school, my father pulled a few strings and had the entire case and everything related to it covered up so that the press couldn't get a hold of them. He threw money at the constables and officers involved to keep them quiet, and everything seemed to be solved. It was damage control, more than anything else. He was more concerned about the family's reputation than he was about me."

The last part was said with a surprising amount of bitterness and Sirius nodded sympathetically, reaching over to squeeze Remus' shoulder reassuringly. "I know. You don't have to explain. Uncle Alphard's done his part to prevent the _blacke_ning of the family name." Sirius was rewarded with a mock grimace as Remus smiled at him half-exasperated, a warm feeling of affection reflected in his burnished eyes.

Hesitantly, Sirius slid the hand resting on the other boy's shoulder so that it rested against the column of Remus' neck. Gently, he brushed his thumb across Remus' jaw, marveling at the delicacy.

_Beautiful._ The thought came unbidden and Sirius leaned forward, in an effort to close the distance between them. Remus' eyes widened in alarm at the unexpected action and his lips parted to stop the dark haired boy, but he found that the words died unspoken as he sat transfixed under the intensity of Sirius' gaze, which was drawing inextricably closer.

Their faces were only inches apart when an insistent knock on the door alerted them to company outside.

Sirius froze, coming back to himself. Hastily, he pulled back, stepping a good distance away from the bed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He shot an apologetic look at the light haired boy, who still had a stunned expression on his face, before clearing his throat. "Come in."

The door opened to reveal the two figures of James and Peter standing at the door. At the sight of Remus, James' face broke out into a grin.

"Have you heard it then?"

"Heard it?" Remus echoed, with a confused look on his flustered face.

"Kingsley's just told us the good news, mate," James smiled from ear to ear, his hazel eyes dancing merrily. "You're officially off the hook."

"Wha-?" Sirius and Remus looked at each other, mirroring expressions of disbelief. Had Malfoy given up so easily after seeing the forged papers? It all seemed too good to believe.

"Seems awful suspect," Sirius said looking skeptical, giving voice to Remus' doubt. There had to be a catch.

"Well, it seems that Professor Essex received your Winter Exhibition submission this morning and approved it on sight," the gangly boy explained. "The announcement of the final entrants was just made to the entire school. You and Malfoy won the last two slots."

"Which means Essex doesn't believe you're the vandal," Sirius breathed, putting two and two together. He grinned excitedly at Remus. "You received his official endorsement."

"Plus," James continued. "The angle Malfoy was trying to work by claiming that Remus was seeking revenge for not being selected to participate in the Exhibition is now null and void. In addition to the files Dumbledore supplied, Remus' innocence seems pretty clear—not that I ever doubted you, old boy. The Review Board has now moved to dismiss Remus from the list of suspects and halt further questioning and the Investigation Board has no choice but to comply or look like asses. Isn't that wonderful?"

"_Fantastique_," Remus said weakly, as if he was still unable to convince himself of his good fortune. "Really, spectacular." The reality of the situation had barely sunk in. A few candle marks ago, he had been ready to pack up his belongings and say good-bye to the few friends that he made. Now, he was being told that he would be allowed to stay, with a full pardon. Remus shook his head. Everything seemed to be going so fast, and then there was Sirius still looking at him with that strange glint in his eyes.

"Must have been quite the sketch," James mused aloud, interrupting Remus' thoughts. "What did you pick as your topic?"

A light blush colored the bridge of his nose as the fair headed boy as he shook his head, unwilling to share his subject. "_C'est un secret_."

"No matter," James said dismissively when he saw Remus giving Sirius a strange look. Sirius, for his part couldn't seem to meet the younger boy's eyes, the tips of his ears reddening suspiciously. "We'll see it sooner or later. But for now, I believe a celebration is in order."

Sirius' eyes flashed at the mention of possible festivities and he was back to his old mischievous self. "How right you are, James. I suppose you already have a certain tavern in mind."

"Why, Sirius Black, I do believe you've become a clairvoyant."

"A drop in the bucket," Sirius assured him. "My other skills are similarly impressive."

"Then I suppose you already have a plan?"

"Don't I always?"

"Well there was that one time with the old suit of armor on the second floor…"

Sirius looked wounded. "I thought we weren't ever going to mention that again."

"Oh, quite right. I do apologize. Now, what were we discussing?"

"Fireworks," Sirius said promptly. "And copious amounts of alcohol."

"Really, that's not necessary--" Remus tried to cut in, but his objections were overridden as James and Sirius continued to plan his congratulatory party discussing the feasibility of lighting a couple of the new Filibuster's Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks inside of the Three Broomsticks. The pair seemed quite adamant and Remus eventually gave up protesting and resigned himself to his fate, inserting a few comments here and there as to the best way to sneak in a sack of fireworks past the ever vigilant Madam Rosmerta. He found himself smiling for the first time in days.

No one noticed as Peter sat quietly off to the side, voluntarily absenting himself from plans of merrymaking. From the moment he had entered the room, he had yet to speak a word. Really, if he had been given a choice, he would not have come at all. James was the one who had insisted and Peter had found himself plastering a fake congratulatory smile for Remus' sake. Even now, he would grunt his agreement from time to time, but he spent the most of it staring at Remus with unblinking eyes, reflecting ill-concealed resentment.


End file.
